To My Dearest Doctor
by AwesomeScottishGirl
Summary: Set after 'The Angels Take Manhattan'. An Amy/Eleven story. Rory writes the doctor a letter on his death bed, a letter concerning the woman they both love.


**Hello my lovely fanfiction friends! So I'm back, and I just witnessed 'Angels In Manhattan' and my emotions were everywhere. It was perfect. But, I am an Amy/11 shipper, so I had to write this. It might be a little inaccurate, but it's also 2 in the morning xD**

**For this story- imagine River never married the Doctor, they were just good friends.**

**This is no place for Amy/Rory fans, so please no flames! You have been warned! Also, mentions depression, and implied self-harm, so this is a heavy one. Enjoy! 3**

My Dearest Doctor-

I'll have Melody to deliver this to you, but I am unsure of whether it will find its way or not, but on all counts, I sincerely hope it does. Let me start by telling you that I hate surprises, so I may as well tell you that it's Rory, writing here, and that Amy will hopefully never find this letter as I do believe that if she does, it will be the end of us. As I sit here, on what potentially is my death bed, at the crisp old age of eighty one, I just know that if Amy could get her cautious afterword to you, I can get this humble letter to you, hopefully near the time we were stolen from you, to provide at least a shred of comfort and knowledge.

I remember the first time she appeared, after the last time we saw you, I was so relieved to see her, that I never thought to thank you for letting her come back to me. It's what she thought she wanted. I remember the first thing she said to me, was not 'Hello', or 'I love you', but, 'I should have told him'. I brushed it off, ignoring it. I wish I hadn't.

She has dementia, now, and it's becoming harder for her to remember you. But we have our photographs, and I ensure that I tell her at least once a day some random story from our travels with you. I know that she writes to you, sometimes, on her better days, though I don't know how long she's been writing to you for, but I do know that she has sat with her pen and pad almost every night since leaving you. Of course, some of those nights were spent writing her books, she's a successful author, maybe I will send you a clipping of an interview from the New York Times about one of her earlier books, 'The Shared Earth'? She was very beautiful, back then, and many called her 'The Angel of Words, Ways, and Wonder'. I asked her about where some of the books inspiration came from, but she simply brushed my questions off- it was not until I read 'Kiss From An Angel', that I realised they were based on her adventures with you. I appear in the stories, sometimes, though I am definitely a secondary character. You and she were the title characters in her books, deservedly so; I am certainly not as interesting as either of you. She has not finished her series yet, however, and I am beginning to wonder if she ever will.

She misses you. So very much, Doctor, that I often cannot comfort her in any way, I just have to let her cry. It hurts us both, but from the beginning of our new lives it was evident that she was not happy without you, she went through several grief therapists, has taken so many pills for depression that I am beginning to wonder if all of them were necessary, and sometimes she just spent days looking out of the window, occasionally letting a few tears slip down her porcelain cheek bones. In the beginning I kissed the tears away, but after a few years, she accepted my kisses less than half heartedly. She would have nightmares nearly every night, and would wake up screaming your name, screaming for Melody, and occasionally for me. The nightmares still come, though after about 10 years, the nightly dreams became weekly, and the screams became mournful sobs.

At first, I am ashamed to admit, I was angry. Why does she scream for you, and not me? We were a beautiful couple, in our prime of life, in a beautiful era, with plenty of money and fame, what could be wrong? You. You were wrong. You were missing. It took two years for me to realise what had been staring at me in the face for a long time.

Amelia Pond was in love with you.

I did not admit my knowledge of her love, partly as I did not even know whether she knew herself that she had fallen for you, and partly because I still loved her, as a friend, or a lover, or a wife, I did not know, but I knew that I loved her enough to stay with her forever. She would never let me read her books until she published them, but I knew for a fact that nearly every book was an accurate portrayal of each of her adventures with you, and so I was not surprised to find a few... steamy... love scenes in the last few pages of one of her most famous novels, 'The God, The Artist, and The Girl Who Waited'. I was angry at first- my fiancé had cheated on me, I was meant to be- but i knew, in my heart of hearts, that the stolen glances, and the times you were away with her for just a few minutes too long, was love. And so our relationship become platonic, when we were around 36, we became two friends who lived together, who loved each other. And she was still in love with you. And when she told me all of her books were exact copies of your adventures, she admitted that you had told her you loved her. You are some man, Doctor, allowing the love of your life to be with someone else because 'that was how it was meant to be'. It would have killed me.

It is not like we didn't try to make our relationship work, Doctor, because we did. We bought a beautiful home, surrounded ourselves with positive people, went out together frequently, and for a few years, it worked. She fell pregnant, a miracle after Demon's Run, and she said she felt like things might eventually fall into place. We painted a nursery, she knitted tiny little yellow baby booties, and we did everything to keep her healthy, but our happiness was short lived. In her sixth month, she miscarried, and she fell into a depression so deep that it felt like it would never be over. I found her diary, that year, and- I'm ashamed to admit what a snoop I was- I read a few pages, enough to confirm what I had feared, that she had never felt happy with her life, merely content, ok. Ok with her husband, who she 'loved with her brain, not her heart', and content with her baby, who 'felt almost like His, as I think about him so much.' We all know who 'he' is, Doctor.

I should hate her, I know I should, but I can't. She's my best friend, and I am her rock, and without each other, our lives would mean nothing, as each other is all we have. Melody only comes once every decade or so, something about a mix-up in timelines. Our timeline collides with hers, apparently.

All she wants is to see you again, one more time. When River visits us, and brings us news of your travels, she nods quietly, hugs her and goes to her room, where she lies on her bed for days. I know it's not possible, but I wish we could see you just one more time, as I fear both our ends are nearing.

And so that is what I have written to tell you. Amelia Pond loves you, and will love you for the rest of her life. And what does she wish she could have told you on the day were torn from your world?

'Melody is yours.'

Yours sincerely,

Rory Williams.

It is with my deepest regret, Doctor, that Amelia Karen Pond committed self-murder 2 days after this letter was dated. Rory Williams died shortly after, suffering from a fatal heart attack. They will be buried together, despite what this letter reveals.

Ursula Brian

Head Lawyer

'Come Along Pond' Publications LTD

Founded by Mrs Amy Williams, Deceased.


End file.
